


Sweet Apologies

by dynastic



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-26
Updated: 2012-06-26
Packaged: 2017-11-08 15:05:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/444481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dynastic/pseuds/dynastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Germany and Belgium reconcile for past unpleasantness. Prussia helps a little.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Apologies

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Hetalia Kink Meme on LJ. Belgium's human name is Sofia here, and it assumes that all the characters live in a neighborhood together for the sake of the plot.

_"Forgiveness does not change the past, but it does enlarge the future."  
— Paul Boese, Dutch botanist_

  


Germany convinced himself that it was merely a coincidence that Belgium's bedroom window was directly parallel to his own bedroom. Yes, a simple coincidence. It had been like that for as long as Belgium had lived in that house, really. Which had been since the war ended and Belgium had to rebuild the house she'd lived in for nearly a century. 

Yes, it was totally a coincidence that she put her large bedroom window right across from his own bedroom window, and he could see directly into her room at his leisure. Not that he, you know, _wanted_ to look into her room since that was completely inappropriate, even though Belgium seemed to like changing in front of it, stripping right down to her underwear—

Coincidence, Ludwig. _Coincidence._  


Prussia, on the other hand, was not convinced of this, and happened to enjoy bringing this up with his dear younger brother on a regular basis now that he had moved back in with him. "West, you're not going to stare at her again tonight, are you?" 

The mug of coffee that Germany had been holding nearly dropped out of his hand, and he turned a defensive shade of pink. "No! I don't stare at her, brother! I pull my shade down every night, you know that!"

"Uh huh, I'll believe that when I see it," Prussia said, giving his brother a teasing grin as he sat down in his chair with his plate of pancakes. 

Placing his mug onto the kitchen counter, Germany ignored his brother and returned to his newspaper, shaking his head and hoping his blush subsided very soon. 

"Maybe she wants to fuck you," Prussia offered, drizzling maple syrup—imported straight from Canada—all over his pancakes. "I mean, she practically strips down in front of your window for you..."

That made Germany choke on the hot coffee he'd just picked up and brought to his lips. "W-What are you talking about?" he spluttered, putting down his coffee cup, more so for safety reasons than anything else, and looked at his brother over his newspaper. "Sofia is a reputable, mature woman! Besides, why would she want—"

"She's a woman, West," Prussia stuffed a forkful of pancake into his mouth and chewed, "She has needs too." He swallowed and licked his lips clean. "Just saying."

"Brother, you can't be serious," Germany groaned, folding up his newspaper.

Prussia grinned, sliding another forkful of pancake goodness into his mouth. "Why wouldn't I be? You should just fuck her—"

"After what happened between her and I?" Germany glanced at his brother, eyes sharp. "I couldn't possibly do that! Sofia probably doesn't even want to do _that_ with me. I mean, she's probably too busy for that kind of thing—"

"West," Prussia interrupted, putting down his fork, "You never apologized to her, did you?" 

Germany hesitated, his throat going dry. "I... Yeah, I did. Of course I did! That was awhile ago though."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Well, what did she say to you?"

Heaving a sigh, Germany fought back the embarrassment and uncomfortableness that this conversation was causing him. "She said she'd forgive me in due time. She was busy rebuilding things and taking care of her people though."

"Are you serious?" Prussia stared blankly at his brother. 

"Yes?" Germany was failing to see where this was all going. "She said she'd forgive me."

"West," Prussia stood up and walked over to his brother, putting his plate into the sink. "It's been years since the war ended. I think she's probably forgiven you by now." He gave his brother a very reassuring pat on the back before turning on his heel, swiping his coffee cup from the table and exited the kitchen. 

Watching his brother leave the kitchen in that same old cocky fashion, Germany, for once, considered his brother.

* * *

This was stupid. Very, very stupid.

Germany stood at the front door of Belgium's house, carrying an entire case of beer and a large package of wurst. 

Yes, this was very stupid. 

She was probably out anyway, working at the little chocolate shop she owned or hanging out with her brothers, Holland and Luxembourg. After all, who stayed home on a Thursday afternoon anyway?

Then Germany heard a rustle coming from the carefully trimmed bushes, and he turned his head only to hear a loud scowl and a head poking through the obstructing branches and leaves. 

"Psst, West! Are you gonna ring the doorbell or am I going to have to ring it for you?"

Germany's eyes widened at his brother—so nosy!—and almost dropped his case of beer and package of wurst onto the ground. "B-Brother, get out of here! Go finish cleaning the living room!"

"I already finished doing that," Prussia scowled, pushing his head further outwards. "Ring the doorbell already, dammit!"

"I will!" Germany hissed to him, turning a bright shade of pink as he tried to shoo his brother away. "Now go away already before she—"

"Ludwig?" 

Oh, _shit_.

Freezing in place for a brief second, Germany turned forward again, only to come face to face with a rather confused and surprised looking Belgium. 

"Ludwig, what are you doing here? Is something wrong?" Belgium asked, tilting her head in a curious manner at him. 

It took Germany about ten seconds to think of something to say in reply, glancing over to the bush where his brother had been no doubt hiding in less than moment ago. Then he opened his mouth and looked at her, trying to smile just a little bit. "I... I thought I'd come to see you," he said finally. "I brought beer and wurst," and he held them up for her to see.

Belgium stared at him for a long moment, still looking relatively confused and surprised before letting out a small laugh coupled by an amused smile. "That's awfully thoughtful of you," she said, opening her door just a little more. 

Taking a small step backwards, Germany got a much better look at her face, her cute smiling face, and he nodded a little. "Ah, _danke_. It's nothing though," he said. "I just thought you might like some."

"Do... Do you want to come in then?" Belgium was smiling at him still. 

Just as Germany thought his blush was beginning to subside, it rose again and he didn't really know what to say, but the bush rustling somewhere to his right—dammit, brother, don't you have better things to do?—was almost egging him on to say 'yes' to her. It couldn't hurt to come in for a bit, would it? 

"Yes, I do," Germany said, after about half a minute of deliberation. 

Belgium stepped aside to let him into her house, closing the door after they were both inside. 

Somewhere to the right of the front door, the bushes rustled and _laughed_.

* * *

The inside of Belgium's house was very clean and very neat, similar to his own house but much smaller. There were paintings covering the walls, large Persian rugs on the floors, dark wood furniture and it smelled like the inside of a bakery. Which was probably a sign that she was making something, and he'd rudely interrupted her—

"Ludwig?" 

Germany snapped upwards and shook his head, looking over at Belgium, who had the same slightly confused look on her face. "Yes?" 

"I asked if you wanted some waffles," Belgium said, giggling a little as she walked into her spacious kitchen. "You caught me in the middle of making some."

Hesitating for a moment, Germany followed her into her kitchen. "Yes, I'd like some," he said, pausing before he remembered his manners, "Please."

Belgium smiled at him before turning back to her waffle iron and bowl of batter. "Alright then. Do sit down and make yourself comfortable."

Germany bit his lower lip, glancing around at all the appliances as the smell of fresh waffles permeated the air. "Er, where should I put these?" he asked, holding up the case of beer and package of wurst. 

Looking back over her shoulder at him, Belgium answered, "In the fridge, if you don't mind."

Nodding, Germany moved over to her fridge and opened the door, only to be greeted with an array of chocolate cakes and pastries lining the top shelf. He smiled a little to himself and then placed the case of beer and wurst on the next shelf down before closing the door. 

Then Germany attempted to think of something else to say as he watched Belgium whip up some waffles for him. He came up short.

Luckily for Germany, Belgium broke the silence and asked, "How many do you want and what do you want on them?"

Well, quite frankly, Germany wanted to eat about forty waffles because he was terribly nervous and when was nervous, he ate or drank a lot. Not that he, you know, told anymore this because—

"Ludwig?"

"Ah, three is fine," Germany answered, lifting his head and snapping out of his thoughts. 

"Okay, what do you want on them?" Belgium asked, pulling a plate from the cabinet before carefully placing the waffles on the plate. 

Germany sat down at the table, glancing over at her. "Er, what do you usually put on them?" 

Belgium shrugged, turning around and walking over to the table with the plate, setting it down in front of him. "Lots of things. Personally, I like whipped cream and strawberries on them."

"That sounds good," Germany said, glancing down at the plate in front of him with three steaming and golden-brown waffles on it. 

Walking over to the fridge, Belgium hummed happily as she pulled out a fresh box of strawberries and a tub of whipped cream. She began to cut up the strawberries, putting them onto a small plate, continuing to hum happily while she did so.

In the meantime, Germany let his eyes wander again, looking at the various things in her kitchen. It was well-stocked and neat—something he always liked to see. "Are you going to have some too?"

"I think I will," Belgium said, shrugging. She turned around and handed him the strawberries and the whipped cream, giving him a small, cheery smile.

Germany offered her the tiniest of smiles when she handed him the strawberries and whipped cream, locking eyes with her for the briefest moment before she turned away. He set them on the table before beginning to spoon some of each onto his waffles, being careful not to make a mess. 

A moment later, Belgium whirled around with a steaming plate of waffles and sat down next to him. Germany noted the closeness right away but made no further movements, and picked up his fork to slice off a piece of his waffle before putting it into his mouth, letting the sweet, fluffy waffle goodness melt in his mouth. 

"S'good," Germany managed, swallowing and glancing over at Belgium. Of course, they didn't compare to his own pancakes, but were still pretty damn delicious.

Belgium flickered her eyes over at him, a small smile on her face. " _Danke_ ," she said as she poured the syrup all over her waffles. "I've had awhile to perfect the recipe though, so I would hope that it's good."

Germany simply smiled at her, finding himself more as ease as they ate their pancakes in near silence. Every once in awhile, his eyes flickered curiously over at her. Admittedly, the silence was slightly deafening, nothing like the usual pleasant silence he enjoyed when his brother was out for the night and he could stay in to watch nightly television with a beer and bowl of pretzels. 

Of course, as Germany periodically looked over at Belgium, he caught her eye and turned another shade of pink before looking down at his empty plate. 

"Is something wrong, Ludwig?" Belgium asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Ah," Germany hesitated, realizing that he lacked an excuse for even looking at her. "No, everything is fine, Sofia."

"Oh, alright then. You were staring at me like I had something in my teeth or something," Belgium replied, cheerfully. 

Shaking his head, Germany put his fork down on his plate. "No, you don't have anything in your teeth." He paused, forcing his blush to subside before opening his mouth to speak again. "Er, Sofia, is... there any reason... you invited me in?"

"What do you mean?" Belgium tilted her head curiously at him as she picked up their plates, wandering over to the sink to wash them up. "Isn't that the polite thing to do whenever someone shows up at your door?" She paused, chuckling a little. "Unless, you know, it's some kind of masked murdered or something like that." 

Germany blinked at her, wondering if she was entirely serious or not. Certainly, he did not remember her having an off-hand sense of humor, but then again, he hadn't visited her in private in several years and perhaps, the shifts with her people and state might have influenced that. 

Catching onto the other nation's expression, Belgium just laughed and places the dishes in the sink. "I'm kidding, Ludwig."

"Oh," Germany said, flushing in embarrassment. "I knew that," he mumbled, glancing away from her for a moment, hearing the water turn on and the quiet clinking of plates in the sink.

"I'm sure," Belgium replied, busying herself with quickly washing up the dishes while... leaving Germany to sit there. Quietly. And awkwardly.

  
_Goddammit._   


After several moments of amazingly awkward silence, Germany shifted in his head chair, hearing the wood creak. "Sofia," he began, hesitating as he tried to find the words to express himself without sounding like an idiot. Which Germany was sure he'd accomplish regardless.

"Yes?" Belgium asked, continuing to wash up the dishes before turning around to look at him, wiping her hands on a dish towel. 

"You and I&mdash" Germany started to say before clearing his throat. "You and I... We aren't still..."

Belgium merely looked curiously at him, leaning lightly against the kitchen counter as she put the dish towel down on top of it, waiting for him to finish. "Yes?" 

"We aren't still on bad terms with one another," Germany finished, perhaps too slowly for his liking, and oh—oh, now Belgium was giving him the most confused look ever.

"Bad terms?" she asked, blinking at him with big, green eyes. "Why would we be on bad terms?"

"After what happened," he replied sheepishly. 

"After _what_ happened, Ludwig?" Belgium had turned around completely to look at him, kinda laughing a little—laughing that "This-Is-Really-Awkward" laugh. 

At that point, Germany didn't say anything and merely sat there, half-wondering if he shouldn't have even brought it up in the first place. 

Luckily for Germany, Belgium opened her mouth to speak again. "You're not talking about _that_ , are you?" she asked, saying her words slowly with a curious tone behind them. "I-I mean, it's not... well, it was a long time ago, and I did say that I would forgive you in due time. Everybody would."

"I never truly apologized _to you_ though," Germany said, perhaps a little more sheepishly than he would have liked. 

"Actually," Belgium began, "you did apologize, if I recall. You apologized profusely. Both you and your brother, even though, I think you'd—well, it doesn't matter, but the point is that you apologized to me." She offered him a small smile. "Truly, you have nothing to worry about, Ludwig. I forgave you quite a long time ago, and although the past is written in stone, we should focus on the future, should we not?"

Her optimism was rather, well, it was overwhelming, but in a way, it was a relief to hear, and Germany was more than happy to let that all sink in. He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it and nodded at her, feeling his anxiety begin to ease.

Then, after a moment of silence, he looked up at her and spoke, "Are you certain?"

"I'm certain, Ludwig," she said, nodding at him. "Can we stop talking about this then?"

"O-Of course, Sofia," he replied. 

"Now that that is settled," she clapped her hands together and turned back to the stove, "Would you care for some tea then? I forgot to ask earlier." 

Germany was smiling, just a little. "I would, yes."

"Alright, I'll make some then," she said, beginning to busy herself with the teapot. "All I have is English tea. I hope that's fine."

"It is." Germany leaned back in his chair, watching her hurry about the kitchen. "Did Arthur give it to you as a gift?"

Belgium laughed. "He did, actually. The last time he came to my house, he gave me this huge basket of goodies."

"How kind of him," he said casually, glancing away from Belgium and at the window above the counter. His anxiety was still easing away, but all the same, he couldn't help but wonder about what his brother had said before about Belgium having "needs." Surely, she had them, and it would explain the nightly strip shows in front of his window—oh, did that mean... 

No, it was merely a coincidence. It had to have been just a coincidence. It was likely that Belgium didn't even know she was doing it. Probably. Maybe.

"Ludwig? Ludwig, are you there?" A hand waved in front of his face, and Germany blinked, flickering his gaze upwards at a confused-looking, but still smiling Belgium. 

"Y-Yes, sorry," he said, shaking his head. "I was, ah, looking out your window is all." It wasn't entirely far from the truth, really. 

"Oh? Is there something interesting going on outside that I should know about?" Belgium asked, her smile widening in amusement. 

In actuality, there _was_ something, or rather, someone right beneath Belgium's window and hiding in the hedges. Germany took a deep, slow breath, and attempted to ignore the fact that his brother was still listening in on them. Not that he was nearly naive enough to believe that his brother had any sense of, you know, privacy when it came to his personal affairs. 

Alright, that was a lie; he was a little naive, but truly, it wasn't the point. The point was—well, the point was that Belgium was still staring at him, waiting for an answer.

"No, it... it just looked like it was going to rain is all," Germany said. 

"It's sunny outside, Ludwig," Belgium replied, a little flatly. 

"I saw clouds in the distance, Sofia." He gestured to the tiny patch of gray clouds growing on the far side. 

Belgium turned around to look out the window, scanning for the small cluster of darkening clouds then glanced back at him, nodding slightly. "I suppose you're right. I did hear about a possible thunderstorm on the weather report this morning," she said, glancing down at her tea kettle. 

"I heard that earlier too." Germany was looking down at her table, wondering why, of all things, they were talking about the weather now. 

The tea kettle was boiling now, letting out its tinny whistle, and Belgium was bustling about once more, pulling down fresh teacups, saucers and spoons from the cabinets and quietly filling them, flicking off her stove. She turned around, walked the four steps back to the table and placed a steaming teacup in front of Germany. 

"Do you take cream and sugar? Honey? Milk?" she asked him, and before he could answer her, she had pivoted her body again to grab everything she just listed to him from her fridge and her counter. 

"Ah, just milk and honey, please," he said, finally. He blinked up at her, wondering if she ever stopped moving at all, and then—then it occurred to him that perhaps, she was equally as jittery at him, despite her cool demeanor. 

"Alright, milk and honey for you," Belgium said, placing the small container of honey and milk in front of him. Then she took a seat beside him, bringing the steaming cup of tea towards her. "And I have cream and sugar for me."

"Thank you." Dear God, Belgium was sitting right beside him now. Germany exhaled then reached for the containers of milk and honey. He poured a small amount of milk into his tea before spooning in some honey, quietly mixing it tea with his spoon. 

"You're welcome." 

And then more silence. Well, more silence aside from the quiet stirring of spoons inside their respective teacups. At least, there was a steaming cup of tea to calm Germany's constant up-and-down nerves down, the hot liquid sliding down his throat and—well, there was a reason he hardly ever drank English tea. 

Germany cleared his throat, putting down his tea cup on its saucer. "Sofia," he began, realizing he had nothing to say. 

Looking curiously over at him, Belgium had placed her tea cup on its saucer, as well. Her expression was far too attentive for what he was about to ask her, but of course, he said it anyway since it was the first thing that had come to mind.

"Sofia, why do you get undressed in front of your bedroom window every night?"

Now, there were a thousand things wrong with this question, and Germany knew every single one of these things, but he wasn't prepared for the answer asking her such a question would give. 

Firstly, Belgium stared wildly at him and blushed brightly, her lips parting in shock. Then she looked down into her lap, after her eyes had widened to the size of their tea saucers, rendered utterly speechless. 

The precise moment after Belgium's head inclined and she began to stare into her lap was the moment when Germany began to wonder if he should even apologize or wait for an answer. Both seemed like rather unfair options, but in a way, he had to satisfy his curiosity. Sure, it was inappropriate, but then again, their previous conversation wasn't about an appropriate subject either. 

"Well," Belgium murmured after several minutes of silence, "I—how do I put this?" She was musing, choosing her words carefully, no doubt. 

Germany had stopped looking at her a long time ago, his own cheeks colored with embarrassment, having realized what he'd asked her just a second after the words left his mouth. He said nothing, merely lifted his gaze and looked at her from the corner of his peripheral.

" _T-This is awfully embarrassing_ ," she muttered to herself, finally glancing over at him, her cheeks still bright with blush. She took a slow, deep breath then said, "Well, when I said that... that I forgave you, I really meant it."

The only words Germany could manage were, "Oh, I see." Except, he really _didn't_ see what she meant at all. Yes, he understood that she forgave him, truly forgave him, but what did that have to do with undressing in front of his bedroom window every night? Germany couldn't see it. At all.

There was another lull in the conversation, and Germany swore the awkwardness between them grew tenfold after that. Thankfully, Belgium broke the silence, not quite looking at Germany's face this time. "I thought... you would never notice that I was doing that," she said quietly.

"I noticed," Germany said, feeling the pit of stomach sink into discomfort. "I noticed awhile ago."

Then Belgium lifted her head, a curious and confused expression gracing her face now. "You did? Why didn't you—no, no. It's fine." 

Opening his mouth to reply to her, Germany tried to calm the storm brewing in his head; organize his thoughts and put them into words, words that made sense for once. He looked down into his half-empty teacup, his tea had gone cold several minutes ago, but it didn't matter. Tea wasn't his favorite beverage, by any means.

"Ah," Germany finally said, raising his gaze to look at Belgium when— _crash!_ Hastily, his eyes moved over to the window, seeing the blackening clouds from before cluttering together, blocking out the sunlight and letting their thunder take over the afternoon skies. He swore he could hear a sharp voice cursing carry from bushes just beside the kitchen window followed by a rather loud rustling, and he shook his head slightly. (His brother truly needed a new hobby.)

"You were right about the storm," Belgium said faintly. She was looking out the kitchen window with him, watching the storm clouds open up and let their rain spill from within them, pouring onto everything below. She stood up slowly, her chair squeaking and creaking as she neatly pushed it in, reaching for their cold teacups and saucers before walking over to the sink, and placing them inside, her back turned away from him. "Listen, Ludwig, do you—do you want to stay? Since it's storming and everything."

It had started to thunder and lighten, the kitchen growing dimming by the moment as the black clouds cascaded all around the house with the raining beginning to come down hard. Germany's eyes had finally moved to where Belgium was standing with her back turned, leaning against the kitchen counter as she shut the window. Her offer was a polite one, he couldn't doubt that, but his house was right next to hers. It wouldn't be terribly difficult to hustle back through the pouring rain, and—she was looking directly at him again. 

"Ludwig?" Belgium's voice was soft, softer than it had been previously. Her green eyes were full and focused on him now, watching him closely and carefully. 

There was something else though; something resonating in her presence now. Perhaps it was hopefulness? Hopeful that he'd stay, that she'd enjoy his company a little longer. Perhaps it was trust? The trust that he'd longed for from not only her, but from everybody else. Although it would never be the same trust they might have once had when they were younger, more naive and exceptionally inexperienced. 

Germany stood up from his chair, pushing it in quietly while he tossed and turned the offer in his mind, mingling with the mountain of thoughts already jumbled together with it. His hands slipped into his pockets, having let his gaze fall to the hard wood floors in the kitchen, studying the grains of the wood. 

"It's okay if you don't want to, you know," Belgium said, heaving a small sigh. "I just thought that you'd..."

Merely shaking his head, Germany raised his eyes and caught her eye. "No, I'll stay," he said, his lip twitching into a minuscule smile. 

Pushing herself away from the counter, Belgium's face immediately lit up at his response, looking much more happier than she had several minutes ago. "Come on, let's move to the living room then," she told him, holding out her hand to him. "I like watching the storms from in there. They're beautiful sometimes, you know?"

Germany walked three steps towards her then took her hand in his. "Yeah, they are."

* * *

Prussia was sitting at the kitchen table with his laptop and a bottle of beer when Germany returned home several hours later. "So, did you fuck her?" He didn't even bother to look up at his beloved brother, continuing to type away on his laptop, probably playing World of Warcraft, no doubt.

Hiding his blush as he hung up his jacket, Germany turned to face him and said, "No, I did not _have sex_ with her, brother." (He'd be damned if he ever used such a vulgar term when it concerned Belgium.) He walked over to the table, noticing the inevitable mess in the kitchen sink as he passed by.

"Well, what did you do then?" Prussia leaned back in his chair. "You were gone for six hours, West. _During a storm._ " 

"We talked," Germany said simply, glancing down at his brother. 

"About?" Prussia sat up straighter in his chair, giving Germany his full attention now. 

"Lots of things." Germany shook his head. "Brother, why do you want to know so much?" Sitting down in one of the kitchen chairs for a moment then heaved a sigh. 

"Because I'm concerned for your well-being, as I always have been. Now, out with it: What else did you do with her?" Prussia was leaning closer to him now, almost like he wanted to intimidate the story out of him. 

Germany hesitated for a moment, rubbing his eyes. "We made waffles. Or she made them, I should say."

"So, that means you fucked her, right?" Prussia asked, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Was it good? I bet it was really good."

"I did not have sexual intercourse with her," Germany said, giving his brother a flat look. He sighed then stood up and pushed in his chair, walking towards the door. "And I would appreciate it if you didn't spy, as well. Most people find it to be rather rude."

"Hey, it wasn't like she knew I was there." Prussia just sat there and smirked, lifting his gaze when his brother stood up and made for the door. "Where you going?" 

"To shower," Germany muttered to him, back turned to him as he left the kitchen, another blush covering his cheeks while he smiled to himself. He'd leave his brother to wonder what actually happened to that absurdly creative imagination of him.

"Yep, he definitely nailed her," Prussia said to himself, nodding in smug approval as he turned back to his laptop and resumed typing. "Today," Prussia muttered out loud, "West got laid..."

* * *

\- [The "past unpleasantness"](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/German_Invasion_of_Belgium)  
\- [Belgian Waffles](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Belgian_waffles)  



End file.
